“The body is in good shape, Ochida-shìfu,” said Tam, “but we’re looking at a full-engine rebuild to bring it up to code, and remodeling the interior to include all the most modern amenities will require that we take it down to the paneling. I am confident we can meet your deadline, though, while maintaining the ship’s original character.”
“Your reputation speaks for itself,” said Ochida Kenji. “I have no doubt she’s in good hands.”
“Excellent. Let me introduce you to the engineer who will be heading up your rebuild. This is Wing Dataran, one of our brightest stars.”
Like a programmed reflex, Mech6.0’s sensor swiveled toward the group. Though Wing Dataran had been working at the shipyard for almost a year, their paths had never crossed. The Triton had been much too big, and she had never been assigned to any of his smaller projects.
But she had known about him. She had connected him to the net database the first time she’d seen him—as she did with all of her human employers—but something about him had kept that profile in the forefront of her memory. A young hardware engineer, he had been hired straight out of tech-university where he had specialized in spaceship engines with extracurricular work in internal design and mechanical systems.
For reasons that didn’t fully compute, she frequently found her sensor seeking him out in the crowd of androids and technicians, and every time she spotted him, her fan did that strange little jump like it had when she’d seen the holograph. Only now did she realize that there were similarities between Dataran and the holographic figure. All humans were similar, with their two eyes and protruding noses and five-fingered, fleshy hands. But Dataran and the boy in the holograph both had pronounced cheekbones and slender frames that suggested a particular grace. And they had both made her fan sputter.
What did that mean?
Dataran unclipped a portscreen from his tool belt after they’d finished their introductions. “I’ve already begun working up some initial plans,” he said, showing something on the screen to Ochida, “but I want to discuss with you any special requests you might have before I finalize it. Particularly those new luxury features, which can put added stress on the engine. I want to make sure it’s fully…”
He trailed off, eyes snagging on something over Ochida’s shoulder. Everyone followed his gaze, including Mech6.0.
A girl had emerged from the ship, wearing an orange and white kimono.
“Ah, there you are, my princess,” said Ochida, waving her down toward them. “Have you been inside the ship this whole time?”
“Just saying good-bye,” said the girl, floating down the ramp. “When I see her again, it will be like meeting an entirely new ship.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You and I are going to be involved every step of the way, making sure my little girl is given precisely the ship she wants.” Ochida wrapped an arm around her shoulders before raising an eyebrow at Tam Sovann. “If that isn’t a problem?”
“Of course not. We welcome your input, and want to make sure you’re fully satisfied with the end result.”
“Good, good. Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Miko. I may have my opinions and my wallet, but she’s the one you really have to please with this rebuild. Think of it as her ship, not mine.”
Miko dipped her head respectfully toward the shipyard owner and Dataran, who stood straighter when her eyes met his.
“This is a very busy place,” said Miko, glancing around at the ships of varying sizes and states of construction, at all the men and women and androids scurrying around their landing gears, and wheeling enormous toolboxes back and forth. “How can you keep it all straight?”
“Each project has a separate crew assigned to it,” said Tam, “and they’ll stay focused on that one project from beginning to completion. We find it’s the most efficient use of our workers.”
Her gaze settled on Dataran again. “And you will be on our crew?”
There was a tinge of color in his cheeks, Mech6.0 noticed. Perhaps it was warmer than usual in the hangar, although she didn’t come equipped with atmospheric temperature gauges to tell for sure. “Yes, Ochida-mèi,” he stammered. “I’ll be your engineer. I’ll be the one… pleasing… er.” His flush deepened.
“You can call me Miko,” she said with a friendly smile. “I know a little about mechanics myself, but perhaps I’ll learn something new from you during this process.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out.
“Why don’t we get these androids started on some of the exterior dismantling?” said Tam. “Dataran, perhaps you could give Ochida-mèi a tour of the shipyard while we sign off on some papers?”
“O-of course,” he said, fumbling to replace the portscreen on his belt. He dislodged a small, shiny chain, which he quickly tucked back into his pocket. “If you would like that?”
“I would, very much.” As her father nudged her forward, Miko reached for the back of her neck to adjust the hair that was bundled there, and Mech6.0’s sensor picked up on something small and dark that suggested an abnormality—a birthmark, perhaps, or a tattoo?
As her processor received its first set of instructions, Mech6.0 claimed a spot near the front of the ship, where she could back out screws while keeping her sensor turned toward the bustling hangar. She watched as Dataran pointed out the various machinery and ship models, and tried to guess what he might be telling Ochida Miko about. The purpose of the different tools? The history of the ships? How they had the most efficient system of android-labor in any shipyard in the Commonwealth?
She saw him introducing the girl to different mechanics and engineers that they passed.
For a while, they disappeared into the almost-completed WindWalker800, and Mech6.0 could only catch glimpses of them through the cockpit windows. She noticed they were both smiling.
Dataran took Miko through parts storage, the painting room, even past the android charging docks, and while Mech6.0 couldn’t hear them, she frequently recognized the dimples of his laughter, and noticed how his gazes grew more daring, settling on the girl with increased frequency, just as her eyes settled on him.
By the time Dataran was opening the gate and ushering Miko up onto the platforms that hung suspended over the water supply and refueling tanks, Mech6.0 realized that she had stopped working.
She turned her sensor toward the ship’s paneling that had only two screws still fastening it to the hull, then glanced at her brethren beside her. They all had at least three panels already taken down.